


Long Cool Linguist in a Black Vest

by Trinket2018



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, First Meetings, Gen, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Series, Whump, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket2018/pseuds/Trinket2018
Summary: Saturday Night they were downtown, working for the FBI…





	Long Cool Linguist in a Black Vest

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the ‘Linguist in Leather/Colonel in Crisis’ challenge. No warnings, except, okay, cliché terrorists & cliché abandoned air strip. This is AU, all of our regular characters meeting in a way different from the movie/series. (With the addition of Arris Bok, Harry Maybourne and Simmons). DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1, the characters and universe are the property of Kawoosh Productions, Showtime/Viacom, Sony/MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and the Sci-Fi Channel. No copyright infringement is intended. I have absolutely no right to be playing with them or their universe. I just gotta. I promise to get nothing out of it but personal satisfaction. RATING: NC-17 for profanity, violence. Å WARNINGS: Threatened non-consensual m/m.

Å 

“Jack! Looking good, ol’ buddy,” Harry Maybourne greeted him with a handshake at the door of the Pentagon office.

Colonel Jack O’Neill regarded the hand with a jaundiced eye and a lifted eyebrow, the one with the scar. “A tad… anxious, are we, Harry?”

Maybourne grinned the wider. “You know me too well, Jack. Have a seat. So. How’s things? How’s Charlie taking the divorce?”

Jack shrugged. “Not bad, I guess. He says it puts him in the majority – most of his friends have divorced parents. Now he says if I can just turn gay, or at least bi…” Harry almost choked on his coffee, and Jack shrugged. “Yeah… one less reason to hide in the closet. There’s still the Air Force regulations, though… Now Charlie’s getting lessons from the other kids how to play me and Sara against each other to get the best stuff.”

“Chip off the ol’ block, then.”

“Harry. Much as I like coming all the way to Washington to chew the fat with you…”

“Okay, okay. Down to business. We’ve got a little job for you. We need you to meet an old friend, in New York.”

“What old friend?”

“Mohammed BenRa.”

Jack went cold. All the way through. “He’s dead.”

“Nope. Turned up last night at a bar in Manhattan. We’re still trying to find out how he got across our borders. Sent up red flags all over the damn place. There’s three, maybe four agencies trying to get a piece of this, and I knew you’d want a shot, too.”

“Oh, yeah. Preferably a .45 caliber. Any idea what he’s up to?”

“Probably same old same old. He was seen talking to a man named Boch, a contact for most of the big arms dealers on the Eastern Seaboard.”

“Something big is going down.”

“Looks like, or BenRa wouldn’t take the chance of coming here. Here’s the file, everything we have right now is in it.” Maybourne shoved a thick folder across his desk. 

“How’d we get on to this in the first place?” Jack wondered, already lifting the cover to skim through.

“The FBI was running a stake-out on Boch, heard he recently acquired access to a nuclear device, and is getting ready to hold an auction.”

Jack froze. “BenRa wants it.”

Maybourne shrugged. “Could be. The Feds have nothing on Boch at the moment, so they were giving him enough rope to hopefully hang himself, and waiting to see what else they could scoop up. Having BenRa show up was something of a surprise all the way around. The FBI has jurisdiction and is running the show, but when BenRa showed his ugly face, they put an NID spook in charge, name of Simmons, got ‘specialized knowledge’, whatever that means. Much as you love me, Jack, Simmons is worse. But he can get the job done.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“The bar where we spotted BenRa is called the Velvet Glove. We need you inside the place. Surveillance for now, see who else he talks to. Then we’ll need you as back-up. We’ve got… or rather Simmons says he’s got, a civilian he can get inside.”

“A civilian? As in, a civilian civilian?”

“As civilian as they come, apparently.” Harry shoved another, extremely thin folder across his desk. Jack picked it up and flipped it open…

“You’re kidding, right? An *archeologist*?”

“You remember an incident in Luxor two years ago? I think you were in Bosnia at the time. BenRa’s group exploded a bomb on a tourist bus.”

“I remember.”

“Well, one bomb went off. Not five. And the tourists on that bus all got off in time. I’m told this archeologist is the reason why. If there’s anyone alive hates BenRa more than you, Jack, it’s Dr. Daniel Jackson.”

Å 

Daniel could feel the sweat on his brow as he typed the last of his dissertation into the laptop, then hit save and exit. He sat back and regarded the screen, little cartoon pharaohs marching in row after row against a papyrus ground. He sighed and took off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose, then reached for his mug to drain the last of the very cold coffee. 

Crunch time. Again. Did he dare do this? Did he dare not?

Really, when you got right down to it, what more did he have to lose? Sarah had already walked out, as she had been threatening to do for months. He had cut his ties with Dr. Jordan and Steven, seeing the cuneiform on that wall only too clearly. The grant money was spent, his apartment lease was up at the end of the month and he was already living on last-month rent with no money to renew… 

All that was left was to show up at the conference next week, and drop his little stink bomb among the comfortable, complacent deans of academia. And after that?

He sighed.

It was in the lap of the gods, really. And the gods had never looked upon him with any kind of favor. Seemed to prefer whacking him on the head. And they weren’t alone. He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done, in another life, maybe, to piss them off so thoroughly.

Okay, enough of the pity party. Lots to do before the conference. Lots to prepare for, marshalling his evidence, his arguments. Just because he was about to deep six his whole career was no reason to do a half-assed job of it. He was a professional, after all. 

There was a knock at the door. Daniel barked out a terse, “Come.” And the last, the very last person he expected to see walked through.

“Okay, now you’ve come, you can go right back out, Simmons.”

Daniel didn’t know if the man trying to wedge himself on the guest chair had a first name or not. Didn’t care. He didn’t know if his last was really Simmons. As far as Daniel was concerned it was Trouble, and that was with the capitol “T”.

“Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?” the NID operative asked, smiling his cold-blooded slimy shark-in-guppy’s-clothing smile.

Daniel merely continued with his work, studiously ignoring the distraction in his visitor’s chair. Simmons chuckled and tossed an eight-by-ten grainy black-and-white photograph on the keyboard in front of Daniel. Bad as the resolution was, Daniel had no trouble identifying the subject. He paled.

“No. He’s dead. You told me he was dead.”

“What can I say? The reports were exaggerated. He’s in New York.”

“BenRa, in the United States? How the hell did that happen?” Daniel’s shrewd blue eyes peered at Simmons over the top of his wire rim glasses. “Or maybe I should be asking, why are you allowing him in?”

Simmons smiled blandly, annoying the hell out of Daniel. “He’s here to meet a few people, do a little business. We want to know who, and what. He’s arranged some meetings at a club called the Velvet Glove.” 

“The Velvet Glove?” Daniel repeated dubiously. “Is that the kind of place it… sounds?”

“If you’re thinking mild BDSM…”

“Excuse me? BDSM?”

“Bondage, domination, sado-masochism. If that’s what you’re thinking, then yes, it’s exactly the kind of place it sounds.”

“Why on Earth would BenRa be caught dead in a place like that? He’s devout Muslim. Apart from the fact the man has a deep and abiding contempt for Western culture and mores (or lack of them) as it is… he doesn’t drink alcohol, has precious little sex even with his wives… and he still has three, doesn’t he? BenRa might be a murderer and terrorist, and a goddamned snake in every other way, but he’s a faithful husband, I have to give him that.”

“He’s not there for his own enjoyment. He’s there to meet with his contacts. One of them, Harris Boch, is a major arms dealer. And he *is* in to that scene. But this works in our favor. It just so happens the owner of the club is… beholden to us. We’ve arranged covert surveillance via the extensive camera network in the club. We’ll be able to watch everything that goes on, everyone who comes and goes. We’ve managed to get someone on the inside, very close to the top of BenRa’s organization, but we’ve been unable to find a safe way to make contact and arrange for him to hand off the intel he’s collected, one BenRa won’t question or suspect. And that’s where you come in, Dr. Jackson.”

“I was wondering. And it won’t work. BenRa knows I hate his goddamned guts, and I’ll do anything I can to stop him. He won’t have forgotten Luxor so quickly. He’s as likely to shoot me the second he sees me, and anyone I talk to will be instantly suspect.”

“Ah, but you’ll have a reason for seeking this person out, one BenRa will appreciate, and accept without question.”

“Yes? And that would be--?”

“He’s acquired a new convert for his… team. I believe you know the boy. His name is Skarra.”

Daniel abruptly paled. “Goddamn it… you son of a bitch… you put Skarra up to this!”

“Not at all. It was his choice. He’s no more fond of BenRa that you are – maybe less. But his presence at BenRa’s side gives you a valid and almost innocent reason to charge into that club. To rescue the son of your old dig foreman from the vile clutches of a man you hate and despise. All you have to do is tell everyone that Kasuf called and asked for your help. BenRa will accept that story without reservation. That gives you more than enough reason to be there, night after night, dragging Skarra aside every chance you get.”

“Goddamn right I will! You rat bastard… sending a boy into danger like that… if BenRa even begins to suspect…”

“He won’t. He can’t. As long as you play your part. And speaking of playing… I seriously doubt that you have anything suitable to wear to the club, so I took the liberty of getting you something. Oh, and it’s government issue, so I want it returned intact after the mission.”

“You mean, without bullet or knife holes?”

“Very clever, Dr. Jackson. Always a pleasure working with you.”

“I wish I could say the same…” Daniel grumbled, teeth grinding together as he spat out, “How long is this little operation of yours supposed to run?”

“I have your airline tickets to New York right here, with an open-ended return to Chicago, and a reservation for you at a hotel near the club. You leave tonight, and then we’ll need you to stay available for a week, maybe two. Not longer. BenRa is slated to attend a meeting with other terrorist cells at the end of the month.”

“How nice for him. But it so happens I have a special occasion of my own next week, in LA, and I can’t possibly miss it.”

“Ah yes, your symposium at the Early Cultures Conference. I’ll see you get there, never fear.”

Daniel shouldn’t have been surprised Simmons knew all about his invitation to speak at the conference. Intelligence was Simmons’ job, after all, if not a very apt description of the man himself. And if by chance Daniel should miss his presentation? At best it would only delay the inevitable. Sooner or later, he would have to get up in front of the academic world and tell them two hundred years of archeological study was for shit, because everything they accepted as truth was so much camel dung. And then… And then he’d better have an application ready for MacDonald’s, because wearing the paper hat was probably the only job he’d be able to get after that.

“Well, Dr. Jackson? Are you with me?”

He was still deeply suspicious of Simmons, his motives, his agenda. The NID agent always had one, and it was never anything of which Daniel would approve, or even understand. He was half inclined to kick Simmons out the door, tell him to go to hell. But… Skarra. He’d call Kasuf the second he got rid of Simmons, find out what the hell was going on.

“Fine. Okay. I’m with you. Let’s see this government issue outfit you want me to wear…” He opened the white clothing store box as if he thought it might be wired to explode in his face. When he looked at the contents… he looked under the contents, expecting, hoping, to find more… “Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s it. I think you’ll find it’s sufficient.”

“You have got to be joking! I can’t go out in public in this!”

“I grant it’s different than your usual style, but you’ll blend in perfectly at the club, believe me. Think of it as urban camouflage.”

“Uh hunh,” Daniel sent an acid glance at the NID agent. “I sense an agenda here. I’m going to be decked out as bait, right? I don’t know what you may have heard, but I was never more to BenRa than a thesis adviser at Oxford. Never.”

Simmons practically oozed false reassurance. “Of course, of course, doctor. I never meant to imply anything else.” 

He might not, but this… outfit, practically screamed “Come and get it.”

Daniel sighed. Well, if he didn’t make it back to his office, there was no real harm done… and if it would save Skarra, and stop BenRa, those were certainly better reasons for going down in flames than dedication to some dry and arcane academic truth.

Å 

In retrospect, Jack thought as he nursed his club soda at the bar, they may have got into position too early. It was ten, the place was packed, but there was no sign of their quarry, or his entourage. No sign of Simmons’ contact, either. 

Jack’s choice of clothing for the evening caused just enough confusion among the Velvet Glove’s clientele that he found himself fielding an extremely flattering number of inquiries. The worn butter-soft jeans, tight white T-shirt and cowboy boots drew the women, while the black leather bomber jacket – also aged but well-cared-for – drew the men. Everyone assumed he was dominant, but they all asked anyway. The most intriguing invitation came from a six-foot-plus woman in a purple wig dressed in a very fetching black velvet merry widow who offered to learn as well as teach at the ticklish end of her silk-tasseled whip. His reply to all was that he was waiting for someone, accepted with good grace as they went away to troll somewhere else. But he felt many watching him after that, curious to see who could attract, and keep him interested in the face of other enticements.

To allay the inevitable stake-out boredom, Harry, sequestered with a multi-jurisdictional team of FBI, ATF, CIA and NID agents in a room upstairs positively bristling with cameras and state-of-the-art surveillance equipment, was whispering a running commentary in Jack’s ear, checking out and grading each new arrival in the door. So far, nobody had rated more than a seven, on either Harry’s meter, or his own. 

Until, just before midnight, the door opened, and a definite, unqualified eleven-plus waltzed in. 

Harry’s whisper grew a tad strained. “Woohoo! Will you look at that bit of jail-bait who just wandered in. Jesus. He doesn’t look old enough to drive, let alone drink… bet the bouncer cards him… yep. Woof.”

Jack chuckled over his glass, in complete accord. Six lean feet of adorability in skin-tight black leather stood uncertain just inside the door, and already there were sharks circling. Dark blonde hair just a shade too long curled at a vulnerable nape. Leather pants hugged long, graceful legs and rode low on his hips, held in place by a wide leather belt studded with silver and fastened by a large silver buckle. His vest was sleeveless, shirtless, and criss-cross lacing up the front displayed a lot of white smooth skin down the centre of his chest, with just a suggestion of hair below his sternum and in a faint dark line down to his navel, playing peek-a-boo over the buckle. Wide, enormous dark eyes peered blinking though the gloom, three vertical lines of concentration forming between expressive arched eyebrows, already climbing as he tried to peer around the three women and two men sidling up to make his acquaintance. He barely realized they were there, focused on finding a specific face in the crowd. 

Here to meet someone, then. He better find them soon, and they better be real big, or there was a kidnapping in the kid’s future. One of the men leaned into his ear and whispered something which had the kid blinking more furiously, blushing ripe red, then making signals that he hadn’t heard. I’ll bet he didn’t, Jack thought with a grin, because what he thought he heard he couldn’t believe. The newcomer pushed through the crowd of admirers, set out deeper into the club, and tripped.

Jack almost laughed aloud, and over the wire, Harry did guffaw. “Of course you realize, if that boy bends over, we’ll have a riot in here? This kid is a menace, scattering broken furniture and broken hearts in his wake.”

But Jack realized something else. The wide-open guileless eyes signified one more thing – the kid was near-sighted – blind as a bat. And then the awful truth hit him straight in his tingling libido.

“Oh, Harry? Have you taken a good look at our young Adonis there?”

“You bet I have. That ass… Jesus.”

“No, Harry, above the waist. Think tweed and glasses.”

“Tweed and… aw crap.”

“No kidding. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Hang on, hang on… Dr. Jackson is supposed to be thirty-one, not… aw crap.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“I dunno. I was expecting tweed. Glasses. Arms full of books. Not… hot black leather, a killer ass and legs that go on forever. Simmons?… Aw crap. It is him. Hey, Simmons. Whose idea was the leather gift-wrapping?”

Jack drained his glass and sauntered out to intercept the young (but not nearly as young as he looked) archeologist. He planted himself in Dr. Jackson’s path, and groaned at the delicious thud when that long, lean body banged into his. He could hear Harry’s envious sigh over the wire.

“Daniel?” Jack shouted to catch the younger man’s attention. “Glad you could make it!” The wide dark blue eyes fastened on him, that absolutely adorable frown deepening.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Sure. I’m Jack. You’re here to meet me.”

“No, actually, I’m not,” Daniel replied, trying to get by the larger man.

“Yes, actually, you are. We’ve got a mutual friend. Mr. Simmons? Yeah, thought that’d do it. Come have a drink, we’ll talk.”

Only now did Daniel spare enough attention to study the other man. He was taller by a couple of inches, heavier by a few pounds, older by at least ten years, and even more if you counted the obvious mileage marked by scars… the most obvious being the one that bisected his left eyebrow. But the warm brown eyes were sparkling with shrewd intelligence and humor, and Daniel felt an answering smile struggle through. He reached to re-settle his glasses – which he wasn’t wearing. The contacts worked, barely, uncomfortable and stinging his eyes in the smoky club, making his eyes water, but they left him feeling even more exposed and defenseless than this silly costume of Simmons’.

“No, thanks all the same, to the drink and the talk. Tell our mutual friend he’s got god-awful taste in clothes, by the way. This damned thing is cold on top of everything else. Sorry… Jim, was it? But I’ve got to go. I’ve got people to meet.”

“Hold your horses,” Jack insisted, stopping the man from getting by through the simple expedient of putting his hand on the silky-smooth, firm, enticingly warm chest. “If you mean your old friend from Luxor…” and he paused meaningfully, seeing the younger man’s eyes narrow in speculation, “he isn’t here yet.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he is.” 

Daniel took hold of Jack’s wrist and pried himself free then stepped around the other man and strode through the crowd with all the focused determination of a scud missile. Doing about as much collateral damage, too, as everyone, male and female, young and old, stopped and turned to watch that tight, black-sheathed ass undulate by. 

Only a few more yards into the club, and the linguist in leather was waylaid by another. This was a young – very young – woman with huge dark eyes in an exotic face, olive complexion, jet black hair, grace and beauty in her arms and body, wrapped in a wispy stole of some dark material. The young scholar stood frozen at her sudden appearance, then did his best to hustle her to a quiet corner, speaking urgently to her, obviously upset. They spoke together for a moment, then the archeologist cut the discussion short and pointed to the back of the club, his intended destination until the girl had shown. She nodded, not happy, but willing to wait till he got back to continue whatever argument they were having. Once again, Dr. Daniel Jackson cut a swath through the admiring denizens of the club. 

Jack had to concentrate hard to drag his attention off that ass. He breathed a heavy sigh, shook his head to clear it, and anticipated the young man’s destination – a curtained-off booth at the back of the club. A giant of a black man stood there, a towering monument of muscle and bone with the most forbidding, stony countenance Jack had ever seen. Dr. Jackson stepped up to him like they were old friends – even if the man mountain didn’t seem to think so – and started talking.

“Harry. Got a make on the big guy?”

“Nope, Jack. Give us a minute. Simmons? You know him?… He’s muscle for BenRa’s lieutenant. Bodyguard to Elim al Apo. Shit. The gang’s all here, then.”

Å

Daniel was not having a good day. Not even close. So of course it would include Teal’c, and therefore inevitably, Apo. Grimly, he met the big man head on. 

“Hello, Teal’c. It’s been a long time,” he greeted in Arabic. “How is Ry’ac?”

Teal’c’s visage was never what one could call expressive, and to anyone who didn’t know him, it might appear intimidating, but Daniel was not of their number.

“Daniel Jackson. This is not a good place for you to be. You should leave. Now. While you can.”

“I can’t do that, Teal’c. I don’t suppose I have to ask what you’re doing here?”

The other man said nothing. 

“I have to see him, Teal’c. Let me pass.”

Teal’c was spared the difficulty of resolving the impasse on his own by a voice behind the curtain, inviting the guest to enter. Daniel nodded as he slipped by.

Mohammed BenRa was astonishingly young for one who had… accomplished… so much in his short life. He was dressed in a fine three-piece suit of charcoal grey that screamed money to Daniel’s admittedly inexperienced eyes. With golden skin, short-cut black hair and lithe, slender body, BenRa was a seriously good-looking young man. But his eyes, his dark, almond-shaped, beautiful eyes, were cold and gleamed with a feral glittering brightness in the gloomy cubicle that made Daniel shudder. Madness. Mohammed BenRa was possessed by a cold, reptilian madness that sought no warmth, no compassion, no understanding, would allow no reason, remorse or compromise.

In a way, Daniel could almost understand him and the sheer fury that drove him, heedless and mindless of anything but the one searing goal of revenge, against the entire world, for all the things he should have had as birth-right, and had been denied. Oh yes, Daniel could understand that anger all too well. There were times when he struggled with it himself. Because BenRa wasn’t the only orphan shut out and lost in the cold. But everyone who had been shit on as a kid didn’t turn into a mass murderer with the thinnest veil of excuse for his crimes against the innocent… or at least, against those bystanders who had no direct participation in his pain.

There was a limit to the responsibility the ignorant could bear. There was no limit to the responsibility the guilty had to take for their own actions. Daniel squared his shoulders as he faced the other man. 

“Daniel,” cooed BenRa with a smile, gesturing to the empty pillowed seat to his right. “How kind of you to come and see me. I believe you know my… assistant, Skarra?”

Daniel met Skarra’s eyes briefly. Very briefly. Because Skarra, a boy Daniel had taught to read and write English, a boy he had watched grow from a toddler to this beautiful youth, turned away, two spots of intense burn on his dusky cheeks. Humiliation? Shame? Embarrassment? Fear of revealing too much truth before the brilliant, perceptive and evil man beside him? Or all of the above, perhaps?

“Yes, I know Skarra. He’s the one I came here to see, actually.”

“Indeed?” BenRa retorted, raking Daniel with his eyes as he took in the glories of the leather outfit. “I would have taken you for a regular visitor to this place. You appear to be well-dressed for it. You frequent such dens, no doubt?” There was a speculation in the other man’s eyes, almost a hunger as just the tip of a pink tongue appeared to sweep over full lips. 

Daniel refused to shudder. “Oh this? Just something I had lying around from a fancy-dress party… I really don’t know what you think you’re doing here, BenRa, but you have to be aware that half the police agencies of this country are watching you right now. They’re just waiting their chance to slap your butt in jail.”

“And yet they do not. Do you know why, Daniel?”

“Waiting to find out what you’re up to, I suppose.”

“No doubt of it. They fear me. They are right to do so. But you do not, do you? You never have. That is not at all wise. I am a very dangerous man.”

“You’re a very insane man. There’s a difference.”

BenRa laughed. “Come! Sit. I have missed your company, Daniel. No one else ever tells me the truth to my face. I have missed that. All the world else either fears me too much, or fawns on me, craving to bask in my power. But not you. Never you. I suppose it was Simmons put you up to coming here to see me?”

“He asked.”

“But you came because he told you Skarra was… with me.”

“What will it take to get you to let him go?” Daniel demanded, tired of the games.

“Daniel…” Skarra himself ventured in warning, only to still at BenRa’s raised hand. 

“Perhaps… a trade? Him for you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do you know, I think perhaps I am not.”

Daniel was about to frame a stinging reply when the curtain behind him was pushed aside, and a tall, somewhat older man entered, also giving Daniel a raking glance up and down as he passed. 

“Daniel Jackson,” he said with a characteristic sneer.

“Elim al Apo. How’s the limp?”

Daniel was pleased to see his mild barb hit home. Though far from obvious, the man did still walk with a decided hitch in his stride, thanks to the knife wound that had struck deep into his thigh muscles, courtesy of a seriously pissed archeologist bent on stopping the murder of another bus-load of children. How that nasty little scene could have ended without one or both of them dead, Daniel still wasn’t sure. He had woken up in a hospital, with Kasuf and his daughter hovering by his side. 

Apo lurched toward Daniel, his hands twitching, only to stop dead at a single warning gesture from his master, BenRa.

Then the younger man chided gently, “Daniel, Daniel. Why do you bait him so? And you, Elim, should know better than to allow him to do it. You must learn to contain that temper, Elim. Do not tame it, but use it, channel it to more… constructive ends. Daniel is my guest this evening. I have just made him an offer to join us.”

Apo sent a single scathing glance at his superior, eloquent of the sentiment, “Are you *nuts*?” if not those actual words. BenRa laughed.

Apo struggled and finally sat on his intense desire to do Daniel harm, receding to the vacant place the linguist had been offered to fume in thwarted silence. Although he did just mention, “He is here.”

“That would be your contact, Harris Boch, would it?” Daniel wondered brightly.

Apo glowered in impotent resentment, but BenRa became thoughtful. “Simmons told you that. I wonder why. He was uncharacteristically forth-coming with you, was he not? Although… my being in this… decadent place, could only be at Boch’s behest. Not so difficult an assumption to make. Would you care to meet an arms dealer, Daniel? I know how curious you are of differing ways of life. Boch’s is nothing if not… different. Elim, if you will invite him to join us?”

“While this… infidel is here?” Apo demanded.

“Certainly. What’s one more? Go.”

Skarra, who had watched and listened to all this intently, ventured a word now. “You did not truly mean you would trade me, did you, master?”

“Yes, he did,” Daniel said.

BenRa merely smiled on both other men. “It would be a difficult choice. You both have such unique and desirable qualities. You are both beautiful to behold. You both have strong wills and brilliant minds. Yes, it would be a difficult choice to make indeed. But perhaps it is not one I need to make. Perhaps Daniel will not leave you alone in my evil clutches if you should stay by me, my dear Skarra?”

“Which means you really were joking about the trade,” Daniel guessed in resignation, still not daring to meet Skarra’s dark eyes.

Any further discussion was ended, however, when the curtain parted yet again, and Apo ushered in a large man, tall, broad at the shoulder, solid all the way through, encased almost entirely in black leather. But this man wore a hell of a lot more of it than Daniel did. Pants, vest, jacket, even a collar with silver studs and wrist-greaves to match. His skin was pale, eyes a startling blue, and hair an eye-popping red, no doubt from the spray-on stuff kids used to change their hair-color every other day. The big man’s sharp eyes flashed over the other occupants of the cubicle, smile widening in appreciation as he dwelled particularly on Skarra, and then caught on Daniel... and lingered. 

“Well, BenRa. I take it you like the place after all? I knew it would suit your tastes. Care to introduce me to your… friends? I don’t think I’ve seen either of them around before.”

“Skarra is my assistant. He came with me. As for this other… he is Daniel Jackson, a local.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed on BenRa at the implications. But he kept his mouth shut as he shook hands gravely with Boch. The hand holding his tightened almost painfully, but Daniel resisted the temptation to retaliate or compete. He met Boch’s eyes coolly, however, until the other man let go. And gave him another long, considering once-over for his trouble. 

“No, I don’t think you’re a Velvet Glove regular. Tell me you’re not the law,” he chided, shaking his head in wistful regret.

“I’m not the law. I’m an archeologist, actually.”

“An archeologist… first time here? Slumming, perhaps? Anthropological study? Collegiate dare? Because you certainly don’t fit the profile.”

Daniel opened his mouth to demand why, then realized he was letting his curiosity side-track him from the main issue here. BenRa, watching the interplay closely, laughed aloud. “Ah, Boch. My friend wants desperately to ask you ‘why’. Shall you tell him?”

Boch cocked a grin. “He’s certainly got the right look… god, but you’re a hot piece, you know that? But not the right act. He’s too strong to be submissive, too reserved to be dominant, and he just isn’t into pain, either receiving or giving. You’re not even all the way gay, are you? Bi if anything. And I’m thinking 50/50 bottom. Which means this is exactly the wrong crowd for you. They just ain’t that flexible on all fronts. Now, me, on the other hand… I think I could get into the whole flexibility option without a qualm if you wanted to give it a try…”

BenRa coughed delicately. “Pardon, Boch, but Daniel is my guest. His flexibility remains a matter for me to explore. But at a more convenient time, perhaps. Skarra, since Daniel is so anxious to talk to you, perhaps you could take him to the bar, where you can talk together without my inhibiting presence. And my friend Harris and I can settle a few little matters of business.” 

The young men left with all due alacrity and considerable relief, enough to cause BenRa and Boch to share an indulgent smile.

“I don’t suppose your archeologist could be part of our… arrangement?” Boch wondered, feeling pleasantly warm in the glow of appreciation for that tight ass so lovingly framed in black leather.

BenRa’s eyes went half-lidded as he leaned back against the padded back. “And how much would you be willing to pay?”

“Oh… I might go a day’s rations… maybe even two.”

BenRa chuckled, while Apo fumed and burst out, “Perhaps we can discuss business now, and leave pleasure for later?”

BenRa winced at the gauche behavior of his lieutenant, even as Boch grew chilly. “As you have successfully spoiled the mood, Elim, we may as well.”

Å 

Jack watched as the archeologist emerged from the private room, half-dragging another, even younger but no less beautiful boy behind him. They fetched up against a wall at the back of the club, and began an urgent, low-voiced argument. They both seemed passionate, angry, concerned, each trying to make the other see sense. But it was obvious to Jack that neither was making much progress. Meanwhile, heads all over the club had turned their way, and the pair were fueling erections, and the stuff of future wet dreams. 

“So, Harry. Who’s the other kid?”

“Simmons says he’s nobody.”

“Not as far as the good doctor is concerned.”

There was a pause. “Simmons won’t say. I smell a plant.”

“Jackson sure as hell knows him, and doesn’t like him being here, not one bit. Shall I mosey on over?”

“Not yet.”

As the muted argument reached a crescendo… a new player appeared. It was the young woman Jackson had spoken to earlier, a beautiful little thing with the same dark middle eastern coloring as the boy, and not very much older. She went right up to Jackson and laid a hand on his arm, and the pair became a trio, none of them overly happy the other two were there. Then Jackson set his jaw, took firm hold of both young people, and forcefully dragged them across the club dance floor – straight to Jack! O’Neill almost choked on his club soda, then blinked, then grinned.

“Something I can do for you, Daniel?”

Dr. Daniel Jackson, PhD’s in linguistics and archeology, masters in anthropology, dumped his two teenage charges in the lap of Simmons’ contact.

“Here,” he said. “These two kids are underage, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they were in this country illegally anyway. They’re Egyptians by birth and nationality and should be deported back to Cairo, immediately.”

“Danyel!” the boy protested angrily, then babbled in Arabic – which luckily Jack knew from various past postings in the middle east, but which he felt no need to reveal here and now if the trio thought they could converse freely without being understood – “It is not your concern! He is my enemy, it is my country where he plans his atrocities… I have every right to—“

“You have no right to come here and risk your neck like this, Skarra. Go home. I promised your father I’d send you home. And you, Sha’re! Kasuf doesn’t even know where you are! What were you thinking?”

“I only meant to bring Skarra home, Danyel—“

“Your father is worried sick about you. About both of you.”

“But I—“

“Skarra,” the girl begged softly, “listen to Danyel. You know he is wise.”

Skarra seemed prepared to get stubborn, when ‘Danyel’ took him out at the knees with the one argument guaranteed to sway any male – “You can’t allow your sister to remain here among these people, Skarra. Maybe BenRa isn’t a danger to her, but what about Elim al Apo? You know what that slimy serpent is capable of. Take her home, Skarra. Let me deal with these snakes. I’ll send word as soon as I can. Trust me. Take Sha’re home and trust me.”

“Listen to Danyel, Skarra. Our father waits for us.”

The boy looked mutinous, but with a glance at his sister, all dark melting eyes and boundless faith, realized he had already lost the argument. “Oh, very well.”

‘Danyel’ turned to Jack. “Get them both out of here, quick as you can. Before BenRa or Apo find out they’re missing.”

And suddenly, there was a buzzing in Jack’s com-link.

“Oh, that’s torn it,” Harry reported. “Simmons is having one hell of a hissy fit over this. He wants the kids left in. Seems this Skarra is his inside track on BenRa.”

What, a kid? Jack thought. Oh, I don’t think so.

“How did you two get in here without the bouncer carding you? Bartender! Do you know you’ve got a couple of teenagers in here?”

As Jack wound up his ‘liquor licensing board’ persona to see these kids got tossed out the door to the waiting arms of Harry’s troops, he saw the grateful smile on Dr. Jackson’s face. And he almost choked. God, but that guy was lethal… he was also disappearing back into the crowd. Back to the big black guard who had quietly observed the whole encounter.

“The master will not be pleased,” Teal’c commented, a hand on Daniel’s chest to prevent him re-entering the cubicle. “Nor will Apo. He had plans for the fair Sha’re.”

“I’ll bet he did. You didn’t stop me, or warn them.”

Teal’c raised one eyebrow. “Indeed. I did not.”

The two men regarded each other solemnly.

“You didn’t see anything,” Daniel suggested. “I must have taken Skarra out back to the alley behind the men’s washrooms, and I returned alone. You never saw Sha’re. And BenRa already offered to trade Skarra for me, so I don’t think he’ll be all that cut up about the change.”

Teal’c frowned. “You play a dangerous game, Daniel Jackson.”

“It’s the hand I was dealt, Teal’c. Don’t take any unnecessary risks on my account.”

Teal’c gave the slightest of bows, barely a shadow of an incline of the head. But his eyes dwelled on the man across the club, even now ushering two reluctant children into the night, and out of the path of danger.

Å 

“Wait! You do not understand. I have vital information for Mr. Simmons. I told Danyel, but he said it did not matter… I must tell Mr. Simmons!” Skarra insisted. “He will want to know!”

Jack hesitated. Then shrugged. He wanted these kids under wraps and safe anyway until he could find a way to send them home. It’s what their friend the archeologist wanted for them, too. So, after checking that none of BenRa’s people had them under scrutiny, he personally escorted the children around to the side of the building and up the fire-escape to the second floor command center where Harry waited with Simmons and half a dozen others. 

Simmons was still fuming at having his mole’s cover blown, but Skarra begged for their attention.

“Please! You must know what I already told Danyel. BenRa and Elim al Apo are here to do business with the arms dealer Harris Boch, but they are in great disagreement over it. Apo does not want the deal to go through. BenRa believes he commands their terrorist cells, but Apo has made secret alliances with all below, and now commands their loyalty and obedience. BenRa does not know this. All Apo needs is access to the money and the weapons, and then he will dispose of BenRa.”

“Nice.” Harry admired *real politik* in all of its forms, the nastier the better.

“There is more. I do not know all the details, but I was able to overhear them arguing last night over money, two million dollars I heard, and a weapon. A nuclear weapon.”

There was sudden silence all over the room.

“Son of a bitch,” Jack breathed. 

“They’re going to buy a nuclear weapon from Boch?” one of the agents exclaimed.

Maybourne guessed, “BenRa, Boch, two million dollars and a nuclear weapon… all right here, right now. Christ… that means Apo has to make his takeover bid tonight. It’s got to be tonight before BenRa can complete his deal with Boch. Skarra, does Boch have the nuclear device here in New York with him?”

“This I do not know, but we are flying to Libya tomorrow. As you said, whatever is planned must happen tonight,” Skarra nodded. 

“You told Danyel all this?” Sha’re asked. “He knows and he will still…”

“I tried to tell him I would do what was necessary, but he would not listen,” Skarra acknowledged sadly. 

Harry was already on the phone, barking out orders. “We need an expert for this. A specialist who can locate, identify and neutralize a nuclear device.”

“But first we have to find it,” Simmons snapped. “And you just pulled out our last chance,” nodding at Skarra.

“Not our last chance,” Maybourne suggested. “Dr. Jackson seems quite popular with all three targets.” The camera and microphones on BenRa’s cozy little alcove had been most enlightening. “I doubt any of them are willing to let him go.”

Skarra and Sha’re exchanged concerned glances, and Jack gave them a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, kids. I’ll be watching the good doctor. And this is as far as BenRa or Apo are going to go. Their careers in terrorism end tonight, one way or another.”

Harry hung up the phone. “We’re in luck. One of General West’s pet boffins is at the Pentagon for briefings. Captain Sam Carter’s coming straight up by USAF jet. ETA shouldn’t be more than two hours. In the meantime, we need to brief Jackson, make sure he knows to stick to BenRa, Apo and Boch like glue. Jack, that’ll be your job. Time to hit up that stellar piece of ass for a dance.” 

It’s a dirty job, Jack reflected, but luckily he was the one who got to do it… 

Å 

Jack retuned to the club to find his target still talking to the man mountain who guarded BenRa’s private little party.

“Care for a dance?” Jack asked with a wolfish smile at the mild-mannered but spectacularly attired archeologist. Both Dr. Jackson and his huge wall-like acquaintance looked up and blinked.

“Sorry, I don’t know how to dance,” Daniel replied and turned back to Teal’c. “Are you sure? BenRa brought no cash with him? But how is he going to pay for weapons if he…” Daniel hesitated on those words, working them over in his mouth. And he felt that sudden flash of intuition surge through him like an electric shock, and he knew. He just knew. “He’s not here to buy, is he? He’s here to sell, to Boch. That’s why Apo is so mad. He wants to keep the thing and use it himself.”

Jack glanced alarmed at Apo’s impassive bodyguard and abruptly dragged the archeologist to the dance-floor where he posed him like a life-sized Ken doll, then jiggled him to get him moving.

“Are you *nuts*? Blurting that out right in front of BenRa’s guy like that?”

Daniel blinked, beginning to move automatically and with unconscious sinuous grace to the driving, pounding beat of the music while his mind churned away on more important matters. “Oh, Teal’c won’t tell.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

Daniel frowned, three vertical lines appearing above his nose, and he was squinting again. “Know what? That I can trust Teal’c, or that BenRa wants to sell, not buy?”

Jack regarded him in some exasperation. “Either one!”

“I can trust Teal’c because I taught his son English, along with most of the village kids, while I was on my last dig. He had to knock me unconscious once and gave me a concussion by accident. He’s always been sorry he did that. And I don’t *know* BenRa is selling arms to Harris Boch right now, but it makes sense. He didn’t bring any large amounts of cash with him into this country, and arms are a cash-and-carry kind of business, aren’t they?”

“Your little buddy Skarra says he’s here to buy a nuke.”

“Aren’t those expensive?”

“They are. Amongst other things.”

“Then shouldn’t BenRa have the money to pay for one? Unless he has one he’s trying to unload.”

“And brought it into this country how, exactly? In his carry-on?”

“Or he got it here. Or had it built here.”

“That’s just crazy. No one in their right mind would… would…”

“Oh, I doubt if everyone in this country can be considered one hundred percent sane, do you? You don’t think I am, for a start.”

Jack glowered at his dance partner for a moment, in his annoyance, almost, but not quite, forgetting how damned attractive the kid was. But the fact that he looked about eighteen, with bright blue innocent eyes and a baby-soft cheek, in black leather that made every hormone Jack had sit up and beg… That just made Dr. Jackson’s aggravating know-it-all way-smarter-than-thou manner all the worse. And that… dance he was doing right now was damned distracting too. The way he kept undulating, gyrating, throwing his head to the side and closing his eyes as he let the beat seep through his golden perfect skin… movements that were seriously stretching and binding the skin-tight leather he almost wore, outlining thigh and hip, cupping crotch, and sent the vest opening and slipping sideways just enough to reveal the peeping of a pink nipple… Jeezus! Down boy! Think baseball stats. Think Sister Mary Margaret. Think Maybourne in drag… And how come a guy in his thirties looked at least ten years younger than he should, anyway?

“You getting all this?” Jack growled for the benefit of the listening Harry & co. “Is the kid right?”

For a moment Daniel opened his mouth wanting to protest being referred to in such a deprecating manner… then he gave up on it and merely shut his eyes again as he let the music sweep him up and carry him off. Damn, you had to hate disco, but it was still remarkably fine stuff to move to… even if they pretended it wasn’t disco by calling it dance re-mix or whatever. It reminded him of the jarring, strident strings of the Marrakesh marketplace and the belly dancers there… no melody, but damn, you could move to it. Had to move to it. Fatima had certainly taught him a thing or three while he was there… 

“Daniel! Focus.”

“On what?”

“What?”

“What?”

Jack shook his head, hoping to clear it. This guy was a genius. A linguist. A trained communicator. So how hard could it be to communicate with him? “Daniel,” he tried again, “we think the deal, whatever it is, has to go down tonight. Boch, BenRa, Apo, the money and the nuke, all in one spot at one time. So we have to be there, to shut it down: to arrest the living and confiscate the inanimate. And we just kicked our only ace out the door, along with his sister. We need an invite to the party, and…”

“And I’m the only one you’ve got,” Daniel filled in the blank, nodding thoughtfully. At least the kid wasn’t shitting those sexy leather pants, or running screaming into the night. Hell, he sure ought to be. But no, he seemed to be seriously considering his options. Or, at least, so Jack assumed… until his face lit up.

“Oh, now there’s something I can *move* to!” he declared as the sultry rhythms of ‘Gimme Shelter’ filled the club. One a.m. on a Sunday morning, and the ‘oldies’ portion of the dj’s repertoire kicked in… 

“Daniel! For cryin’ out loud… Daniel! You okay with this? You realize what we’re asking you to do here? I know it’s a little out of your league…”

“A little,” Daniel acknowledged with a shrug as he gave a shimmy to Mick wailing out the lyrics and Charlie’s drumsticks hitting overdrive. He shut his eyes, tipped back his head and mouthed, ‘it’s just a shot away’, and Jack O’Neill damn near came in *his* pants, and there was an audible groan over the comm link in his ear. In an effort to try for some control over the situation – if not his rampant libido – Jack grabbed the younger man, spun him, caught him in a clinch, and swept him into a dip. ‘Whoa children’ indeed! Admittedly, it was a little easier with a woman in his arms like this, who wasn’t six feet tall, a solid one hundred sixty pounds, and unexpectedly strong as hands clenched reflexively into his shoulders… but not nearly as much of a rush. Startled blue eyes opened wide on him, searching his face.

“Focus, Daniel. On me. Just for a minute.”

Reluctantly, ‘just a kiss away’… Jack pulled the archeologist up to stand on his own, wobbling legs. But he finally had the intense attention he wanted, needed… craved. Daniel was looking at him now, all right, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, a riddle in stone the Sphinx couldn’t match.

“We’re asking you to put your life in danger here. This is a potentially lethal situation you’re going into, alone, with a bunch of loveless, murderous bastards who won’t hesitate to slit your throat from ear to ear on a whim, on just the suggestion you might be a threat. And although we’ll be following as close as we can, we won’t be nearly close enough if this thing turns to shit on us. You’ll be on your own. And much as I hate this whole damned set up, I still have to ask you to do it. There’s just too damned much at stake. You understand?”

Daniel, eyes wide, delectable soft lips pressed into a firm line, nodded. “Yes. I understand.”

“We’ll give you all the backup we can. But in the end, it won’t be enough.”

“I know. I get that.”

“You are the only chance we’ve got to stop the bastards cold, here and now, tonight.”

Daniel was beginning to get impatient. “I understand, Jack. I do get it. I already agreed to do it. What exactly is it you want me to do?”

“Stick to BenRa. They have to make the exchange tonight. You have to be there with them when it goes down. Then you alert us so we can move in and take them all, and the nuke.”

“… and the money,” Harry’s ghostly voice muttered in Jack’s ear.

“How do I do that? Alert you, I mean.”

Jack took one of Daniel’s cold hands and pressed it to the ornate silver belt buckle of his costume. “This. Simmons didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Jack sighed. “Jesus. That manipulative bastard… the buckle has a built-in tracking device and a microphone. You’re wired, Daniel. Simmons must have planned on it going down like this… when you want us to move in, say something like…”

Daniel winced in pain. “Ah, jeez… not a secret code, on top of everything else. This is already feeling like a bad James Bond imitation…”

“Okay then, what do you suggest?”

“How about I just hum something?”

“Like?”

In the background, the opening bars of an old Hollies tune had the Velvet Glove hopping.

“‘Saturday night I was downtown, working for the FBI-I’,” Daniel crooned, in a smooth, bone-melting, sock-igniting tenor that had Harry thumping his thigh, hard enough to travel over the link, and made Jack swallow, several times, deep-breathing and once more summoning a vision of Harry in drag to try to get himself out of the fog of arousal threatening to sweep him away.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. When you’re sure all the players and all the pieces are assembled, sing us a few bars and we’ll make our move. And *you*, you get yourself to cover, soon as. Right?”

“Right. Got it…” The archeologist looked up uncertainly, and Jack’s guts twisted in sympathy. It was a hell of a thing they were asking an untrained civilian to walk into, and he had no doubt the kid was as aware as he how truly dangerous it would be. After all, he knew BenRa and Apo. He’d tangled with them before. Apparently, he had the scars to prove it. 

Daniel ventured, “I’m not so sure this is going to work, though…”

“It’s okay to be scared…”

“Oh, I’m not scared… I don’t think. Maybe a little. It’s just I can’t see BenRa, Boch or Apo inviting me along for the ride. Not when they intend to do something illicit. They all know I’d stop them in a heart-beat if I could. The only reason they accept my presence in the club tonight is because they know Skarra is important to me. But now he’s out of it, they’ll expect me to leave, my work here done. And if I don’t they’ll smell a rat.”

Jack smiled ruefully. “That absent-minded professor thing is just a front, isn’t it?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so… maybe a little. I’m not sure. It’s a recent addition.”

“To what?”

“My personal camouflage. The main component of which is… pain in the ass. That’s the front I’ve been working on, honing, since I was eight. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed, because I know you have.”

“Well, yeah, okay, I did… but somehow it was overshadowed by the whole… god what a dynamite ass thing. What?”

“It’s just… disconcerting. Up until tonight, people’s first impression of me has always been ‘pain in the ass’. I’m used to that. Comfortable with it. Plan on it. The dynamite ass thing is new. As in, just tonight.” In the privacy of his own thoughts, Daniel had already come to the conclusion that there had to be something about the mystique of black leather and studs that had prompted people to act so… odd, around him tonight. No one ever made a pass at him when he was in tweed. Even Sarah hadn’t approached him for that first date until she caught him in jeans and a T.

“Take it from me, Daniel, it isn’t just tonight. It’s probably been all along, but people have been too polite to say. The only difference tonight is, this isn’t a polite crowd. And it’s the dynamite ass thing that’s going to slide you right past BenRa’s defenses. Trust me on this.”

“So… you want me to… er… shake my booty to get them to forget I’m the enemy? You don’t honestly expect that to work, do you?”

“We don’t have anything else.”

Daniel nodded, considering the problem, even as the song ended, and he turned vaguely back toward the guarded booth at the back of the club. Luckily his partner had already stepped out of the way, since he had forgotten the man was even there in his distraction. 

Find a way to go with them… unfortunately, this Jack hadn’t offered any constructive suggestions as to how he would do that, beyond the frivolous and clearly ludicrous one about his supposed sexual appeal. Yeah, like that was going to work. No way would BenRa buy any change of heart that made Daniel any kind of ally… so he would have to become a threat, one the bad guys couldn’t afford to leave behind. And then either Jack would make good on his promise of protection, or Daniel was totally screwed. Well, at least that would spare the academic community the embarrassment his dissertation was likely to cause.

So, his plan in place, Daniel marched back to Teal’c.

The big man regarded the firm set of the younger man’s jaw and the kindling light in his eye and attempted one more time to stop Daniel. Daniel merely looked up at him. And Teal’c, with a sigh, stood aside.

Å 

“What the hell is he doing?” Harry wondered over the com. “Oh shit!”

“What? What?” Jack demanded.

“Oh… just… the archeologist just kicked the ant hill. They’ll be taking him with them now, all right, and leaving his body in pieces in the ditches along the way.” 

“What did he do?”

“He walked in and announced that he knew all about the nuke and the deal, and was going to blow the whole thing sky high. Apo damned near shot him right then. But wiser heads have prevailed. Boch happened to have handcuffs and a mickey on him…”

“Of course he did.”

“So the good doctor is out for the count, and they’ll be loading him in the trunk of Boch’s car when it arrives to pick them all up.”

“And when will that be?”

“Any moment now. We got two choices here, Jack. Send you to trail that car, or get you to pick up our boffin at the airport. We have a helicopter standing by, with all the necessary tracking equipment to get you both to the scene when that car stops.”

“As long as they still have Dr. Jackson with them.”

“Well, yes. How do you want to play this?”

“I’ll get the boffin. Sam Carter you said?”

“Doctor Captain Sam Carter. Yeah.”

Jack groaned. “Another geek?”

Harry chuckled. “At least this one isn’t an archeologist…” 

Å 

Jack stood on the cold wind-swept tarmac, waiting for the USAF jet to touch down. He was trying not to think of all the ways this little mess could sink deeper into the crapper, but there were so damn many of them… At least a thousand and one, starting with an unconscious archeologist locked in the trunk of a car, and therefore unable to hum a few bars of any song.

The small jet, one of General West’s own, touched down in a perfect text-book landing, and taxied in to the hanger where Jack waited by the prepped helicopter. When the gangway lowered, an airman ran up to assist in blocking and tying up, there was obviously only one occupant alighting, must have been pilot as well as only passenger. 

She was tall, blonde, immaculate in class A dress uniform, and a definite knock-out. Jack blinked as she approached him and snapped a salute.

“Colonel O’Neill? Captain Samantha Carter reporting. I was told you had a situation that required my expertise.” 

Aw crap. Make that one thousand and two. With a resigned sigh, Jack replied, “You got any equipment you need? We have to get it loaded up now. I’ll have to give you the mission briefing on the way.”

Captain Carter gave a crisp nod, backed to the jet and picked up a duffle bag, carting it herself, resisting Jack’s gentlemanly offer of assistance. “Some of my gear is extremely delicate, sir. No offense.”

“None taken, Captain. They told you we may be facing a live nuke, right?” 

“Got my Geiger-counter with me, sir. It’s one of the attachments on my Swiss army knife.”

A gamin smile caught Jack by surprise, and he grinned in return. Maybe this wasn’t so much of a problem after all… “Barbie never came with accessories like these, I’ll bet.”

Captain Carter wrinkled her nose, glancing at him with suspicion, that ‘Oh no, not another male chauvinist pig to take down…’ look. But rather than go for his genitals, she took a deep breath, counted to ten, and said, “Not Barbie, sir. Major Matt Mason. And I believe he did have one. Before the dog ate it.”

Jack grinned the wider as he ushered her to their ride. “Glad to hear it, Captain. Let’s get saddled up, and you can tell me all about the dog later. We’ve got a nuke, an archeologist and a world to save.”

He was gratified by the wide-eyed stare she gave him even as she climbed aboard the helicopter and snapped on her belt.

Å 

Daniel awoke to a splitting headache, a body scrunched up and numb with cut-off circulation, his mind gradually clearing of whatever date-rape drug Boch had supplied, but muddled from the reek of carbon-monoxide exhaust fumes. Whatever box he was shut into jiggled and jolted and roared, so it wasn’t a stretch to imagine he was in the trunk of a car. And, when he tried to move at all, he found his various bits and pieces pinned. Wrists behind his back - hence the arm he laid on was dead from the shoulder down - and his ankles.

Slowly, painfully, he sorted out his various limbs, stretching and flexing to get them operational, grimacing at the pins and needles agony of returning circulation. He contorted himself to wedge his inexplicably bare feet through the loop of his hand-cuffed arms so he could at least get his hands in front of him. It took a while, but he managed. Nervous because he didn’t know where his boots had got to, he felt for the silver belt buckle... still present, holding up leather pants that were also reassuringly extant. So, presumably, Simmons, Jack and their friends would know where he was. Which was more than he did at present.

He heard voices.

“Is it much further to the airstrip?” Boch.

“Not very. Are you so impatient?” Ben Ra. Ah. His plan was working so far. Now if only Apo had made it on this trip...

“Let’s just say... cautious.”

“No need. Everything is under control. Is it not, Elim?” Ah again.

“I suppose.”

“My associate is a chronic worrier.”

There was silence. These ‘associates’ had no doubt done as much negotiating as they needed. Daniel hoped those on the other end of the belt buckle transmitter had got it all while he was blissfully unaware.

“So... what are you going to do about... your guest?” Boch asked, and there was a suppressed snigger that had Apo written all over it. And ah yet again. He was kind of interested in that question himself, actually.

“Elim, Elim...” BenRa sounded pained. “Must you gloat so? You know very well what we’ll have to do... but do you really need to *relish* it so much?”

“Yes.” Flat. Unequivocal. Charming, not.

“Please don’t ask if it can be you. We must make allowances, my friend Harris. Elim had plans for the fair Sha’re that did not include Daniel sending her home. Just as I had plans for her delectable brother. I can make do with what has come so conveniently to hand, but Elim still feels a little… thwarted. So, yes, Elim, you may have him, eventually. But don’t hope for too soon. He at least has to get on the transport with us. Apart from that... perhaps a chess game or two... among his many talents, our young guest is a challenging chess player, my friend Harris, did you know that?”

“I’ll bet,” replied Boch, his heavy voice dripping with double entendres. “Since we had to leave the Velvet Glove so precipitously, we’re a couple of hours ahead of time. Your plane won’t land and my associates won’t arrive at the rendezvous until dawn. I can think of more interesting games we can play with your guest while we wait than chess.”

And, um... ah again. Not so much double as single entendres now. Daniel began to wonder how deep in *merde* he was this time. When he thought he’d be screwed if Jack and company lost track of him, he certainly didn’t think that would be his literal fate. And if BenRa did get him on this transport, how the hell was anyone going to follow after they took off?

Å 

“Jackson… that wouldn’t be Dr. Daniel Jackson, would it?” Sam Carter asked as the helicopter vaulted through the darkness, the pilot’s grim face lit from the green glow of the console and the tracking radar sweeping slowly and relentlessly to show them a moving blip below. When Colonel O’Neill first said the name, she had felt a shiver run up her spine. “The archeologist, Egyptologist, linguist?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, it would be the very same. How the hell does a theoretical astrophysicist Captain Doctor in the United States Air Force come to know that?”

“Same way a Special Ops hard-ass Colonel, I guess Sir…” Carter tossed back, just this side of insubordinate. “His name came up in… another context recently.”

Sam remembered the exact context, since it had been the second time that name had been mentioned, and accompanied by the same strange frisson. That second time, it had been Catherine Langford who brought it up, as they all stood staring at the black board full of garbage, trying to make sense of it. Catherine had held an open book in her hand and after consulting its pages, thoughtfully crossed out one phrase on the board, and filled in another. “Doorway to Heaven” became “Star Gate”… and suddenly months, and years of work had a whole new context. 

Catherine had then stared down at the book and said, “I wonder if it would help to bring him here. He might be able to complete the translation, as we have failed to do.”

“Who?” physicist and engineer Dr. Barbara Shore had asked.

Catherine waved the book. “Dr. Daniel Jackson. Archeologist, Egyptologist… has a linguistics background. He’s supposed to be quite brilliant, if a little… odd. Some of his theories are uncomfortably close to what we’re doing here.”

“Oh God, no! Not him!” Dr. Gary Meyers had protested in horror. “You can’t be serious, Catherine. The guy’s a pain in the ass. Ask anyone. And even on his best days he’s supposed to be a bit of a flake.”

“In what way, a flake?” Sam had asked curiously. Her opinion of Meyers had been that he was a bit of a pain in the behind himself, so what would someone even worse be like?

“His theories on cross-pollenization of cultures… looney tunes. And he’s been making noises lately in the academic online chat rooms… that the evidence of established writing systems pre-dating the building of the first pyramid points to the archeological time lines for a number of the ancient cultures being seriously out of whack, possibly by thousands of years…”

Barbara and Sam had traded significant looks around Catherine’s smiling patient face. “Isn’t that just what we’ve been led to believe with our study of the artifact?”

“Yes, but we’ve got solid physical proof!” Meyers had maintained, even as he picked up the blackboard brush to rub out Catherine’s phrase and stubbornly put back his own translation. “He’s going on… on… who knows, instinct, hunches, something. Honestly, Catherine, you can’t give this guy the security clearance he’d need even to get into the Mountain.”

Sam was no more a believer in instinct or hunches than the next theoretical astrophysicist Captain Doctor in the USAF, so she had gone along with Dr. Meyers, the accepted expert in the field. Still… That phrase, “Star Gate”, had nagged at her, time and again, making her wonder if… and it was odd that here was that man’s name coming up again, and in the strangest of contexts. She considered all this and ventured, “So… what is Dr. Jackson doing, involved with mid-eastern terrorists and nuclear devices?”

“You got me. He tangled with BenRa before, in Egypt, and won. Don’t ask me how, ‘cause the guy is a geek. A dweeb. How he won against a stone killer like BenRa... The NID spook in charge of this disaster invited Jackson to come play bait, and the guy agreed for a chance to take BenRa down. The arms dealer and the nuke are just bonuses for us that got thrown in tonight.” 

Sam’s eyes opened a little wider at that. “So… he volunteered for this?”

“Yep. A civilian, all over,” Jack grumbled, shaking his head over it.

After a thoughtful silence… “So… very brave, very stupid, or a bit of a flake?”

Colonel O’Neill chuckled. “I’m still trying to figure that one out, Captain.”

Then the radio choked out a message. “O’Neill come in. This is Maybourne. Over.”

“I’m right here, Harry. Over.”

“The car has stopped at an abandoned airstrip just the other side of Orton.”

O’Neill winced and muttered, “An abandoned airstrip rendezvous. How clichéd is that?” Then he clicked the receiver button and said, “I’m on top of it, Harry. I’ve got the good doctor on my scope right now. What’s the plan?”

“Do a quick sweep in silent mode, see if you can get any hint of the nuke at that location. If not, back off to the perimeter and await further instructions. Simmons is getting his people in place, and we’ve got all approaches covered, by land and air. If it comes to it, we can always shoot BenRa out of the sky.”

There was an uneasy silence. “And Dr. Jackson?”

“He knew the risks,” Maybourne said coldly, but with a hint of regret.

“Yeah, sure. You betcha.”

“Jack…”

“Civilian volunteer, Harry.” And I promised the man, and those kids…

“I know,” said with a sigh. “We’ll do what we can.”

Following orders, O’Neill began a cautious sweep over the dark airstrip, while Captain Carter checked her instruments for any sign of abnormal levels of radioactivity.

Å 

The car stopped, the passengers all emerged, to be met by half a dozen others, issuing from the one remaining building still standing, an aged and rusting Quonset hangar, its big plane-sized door rolled closed, but one human-sized inside it opening to show light within. The residents met the visitors by the car, and conferred in low tones, most of them then collecting and returning back inside the hangar. 

Teal’c opened the trunk to pull out the “guest” and help him stand on wobbling legs. But Daniel felt a bit weak after his long cramped trip, and was unsteady as a colt. Teal’c remained by his side to support. But as he did, he cocked his head to one side, and cast a cautious look up.

Daniel noted the look and listened closely himself. 

“…Teal’c?”

“It is nothing, Daniel Jackson. You are in much danger. It was very foolhardy of you to demand to be brought along. You know they will kill you. Eventually.”

“I know that’s their plan.”

Teal’c gave Daniel a steady look, with just the hint of a lifted eyebrow. A shouted order from the hangar had Teal’c reluctantly helping the younger man walk haltingly toward the building. Their progress was considerably slowed by the cuffs around Daniel’s ankles. Teal’c regretfully refused to remove them. He had been told by both BenRa and Apo that the manacles on both wrists and ankles must remain in place, although he did what he could to help Daniel work out the kinks in his constricted muscles.

“We’ve played chess before, Teal’c, you and I. When you have me in check, what prevents you winning the game?”

“Your own next move placing me in checkmate.” 

Daniel gave a wan smile, even as they entered the hangar. “I’m not dead yet, my friend.”

Teal’c gave the smallest possible bow of acknowledgment, then backed off at Elim al Apo’s approach. The terrorist leader had been lingering near the door, waiting for them. The slender man swaggered a little as he grinned down at the sore and aching Jackson. 

“Not dead yet, perhaps, Daniel. But soon. And it will be at my hand, this I swear.”

Daniel glared. “Must you? On top of everything else, you have to gloat?”

Apo’s face soured, and his hand swept up and out, to slap Daniel resoundingly across the face. When Daniel merely straightened and kept right on glaring, the terrorist lifted his hand again, only to be stopped by Boch. 

“Now, now. You’ll get your turn. No need to spoil it for the rest of us. You okay, Daniel? I can call you Daniel, can’t I? I feel we could become very close friends, you and I.”

Daniel blinked up at the big man in the neon hair. “In the little time I have remaining, you mean? Oh, I really don’t think so…”

Boch ran a finger along Daniel’s cheek, and it took everything the archeologist had not to flinch or pull away, not to give the bastard even a flicker of reaction. He got one, though it wasn’t from Daniel. It was Teal’c who batted that too-familiar hand away. 

Boch chuckled. “Time enough, Daniel, to get… ‘better acquainted’, you and I.”

The hangar was a huge largely empty space, smelling of spilled oil and wet concrete floors, and the kerosene from the hurricane lamps set on the two folding wooden tables. Take out food boxes and wrappers littered the area around the tables, along with empty plastic bottles of soft drinks. Folding chairs were scattered about, not enough for all, and a couple of sleeping bags had been spread out against one wall… BenRa’s henchmen had been camping out here. 

Not a lot of privacy, Daniel speculated, so he breathed a little easier on that score… hard for anyone to become “better acquainted” with him under these circumstances. At an impatient gesture from Apo, Teal’c helped Daniel over to the sleeping rolls, and eased him down on one. Daniel lay on his side and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, but listening as hard as he could. 

Two of the other men nearby were talking, apparently unaware that Daniel understood every word.

“It is the waiting I dislike. Why do we not act now? He is unwary, only the infidel Boch to support him… how easy it would be.”

“We must wait till dawn. Till the plane and the infidel’s people arrive with the money.”

“And more guns. BenRa’s men on the plane, Boch’s men with the money.”

“We will have surprise on our side. And perhaps those on the plane will be with us too. Apo has spoken to them. All agree it is at best foolishness to give away our best weapon… maybe even treason to the cause.” The hushed voices broke off as someone else approached, calling them all to a conference around the lamps. 

Oh boy. However this played out, BenRa was in big big trouble. But whatever happened, it wouldn’t be until dawn when all the players converged. All he had to do was stay alive that long…

Å 

Daniel woke to the sound of footsteps approaching. Boch.

“Care to take a little walk, Dr. Jackson?” he invited.

“Um… no. Not really.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Come on. Time to get ‘better acquainted’.”

“You wouldn’t prefer a good game of chess?”

Boch chuckled in delight. “Um… no. Not really. Come on.” With one yank on the wrist cuffs, Boch hauled Daniel to his feet, and started dragging the shuffling, staggering archeologist toward the door. Daniel looked around desperately, trying to see where Teal’c had got to… not around. His turn on guard duty? The men were taking turns at sentry, he knew, had watched them leave the hangar in pairs, switching over every hour. But without Teal’c around… there was no one else Daniel could appeal to, and he was not just helpless with his wrists and ankles cuffed, but vulnerable too. Couldn’t run, couldn’t fight… even if he had a shot against this behemoth in the bright improbable red hair.

“Look, can’t we talk about this? You already guessed I’m not really into this whole leather and pain scene…”

“It hardly matters what you want, now does it, doctor?”

They left the hangar, Daniel dragging his dead weight as much as he could, dreading what he knew was coming, but although he was unable to see any escape just now, he still couldn’t quite believe it was really going to happen. Not like he hadn’t been threatened with just this fate before… more than once… 

The first time was when he was just eight years old, still in shock over the loss of his parents, in his… second? Third? Foster home… An older teenage boy in the same house had followed him to the park one day, chased him down, beat him, then started to strip him out of his pants. But he had wriggled free, run for cover, found sanctuary and understanding in the arms of the school librarian, who had blown the whistle on the other boy, and taken Daniel in herself. There had been a couple of similar incidents since, but fewer and fewer as Daniel honed that ‘pain-in-the-ass’ persona to good effect… The last incident had occurred at Harvard, after a wild night at a frat party, everyone drunk as skunks… and again, he had managed to escape with his virtue, and other portions of his anatomy, intact. Rape had been threatened, yes. But it had never happened. Always managed to wriggle out at the last moment, by the skin of his teeth. 

But now? This time? No wriggling room left that he could see. 

“Did I mention I have AIDS?”

“Did I mention you’re a terrible liar, doctor?”

“No, seriously, I’m a very sick man. Only months to live. Absolutely swarming with retro-virus. You really need to keep away from me…”

“I’ve got rubbers.”

“Ah. Yes. I see… you came prepared. Good. Um…”

This was not good. Not good at all. He was seriously panicking now, and that wouldn’t do him any good at all. Think, damn it, Daniel, or you were going to add a whole new life experience to a list that was already a tad too long and mostly unpleasant. He considered humming a few bars of the Hollies… but it was too soon. At least an hour before dawn. Spring the trap too early, and they would never get the nuke. That sword would hang over all their heads until doomsday, which wouldn’t be too far off. Calling in the troops would just have to wait. 

And then it occurred to him, adding insult to injury, that Simmons, Jack and the rest would be able to hear the whole sordid, ugly thing on his belt-cam. And that alone almost made him want to tear the damn thing out of the loops and drop it on the grassy landing strip. Except that it was the only goddamned link he did have with getting to his presentation Monday. 

Well wasn’t that just typical of his luck all the way around?

Å 

Sam Carter took a wary glance at the colonel, and suddenly realized that the rumors about this man being extremely ‘mad, bad and dangerous to know’ were quite obviously true. What they were listening to over the NID surveillance equipment that she had managed to pipe through her lap-top was enough to make her feel sick, but it had turned the colonel coldly furious.

“Sir…” she ventured. “Isn’t there anything we can…”

“Until we get the signal, or some indication that the nuke is here, we were told to stay put, captain.”

“Yes sir…”

“Hum, goddamn you!” Jack swore at the microphone. “Come on! You know the tune! Sing it out and I can come get you!”

But what they heard over the com-link was, “At least take the ankle cuffs off first, okay? It’s going to be hard enough to ‘assume the position’ when my feet are stuck together like this.”

The answer came, “I don’t have the keys. And you only need to bend over. I’ll take care of the rest, Dr. Jackson.” 

“This is insane. It really is. It’s just the leather, you know. This never happens when I wear tweed. I’m really not that attractive. I have evidence to prove it. I have allergies, I talk too much, I wear glasses, my hair’s too long, I’m a geek… If you’ll just… wait a minute! That’s my belt…”

The com link sputtered and grew silent. 

“Aw, fuck it. Stay here, captain.”

“Sir! You’ll need back up!”

He just gave her a raised bi-sected eyebrow.

Her mouth thinned, even as she pulled out her MP5 handgun and slipped off the safety. “And level three hand-to-hand, sir. You need back up.”

“Then you’re on, captain.”

Å 

It took some pretty delicate timing. Daniel had to wait till Boch, fed up of the stumbling, went to lift him over a heavily-muscled, leather-clad shoulder. Daniel gave one violent heave, knees punching straight into Boch’s abdomen, causing the big man to scream, buckle in half and fall to the ground. Daniel rolled away on his back and gave one powerful kick with both feet together, straight into the gasping face. 

So, good, okay, one bad guy on the ground, moaning faintly. 

So now what, genius?

Find the damn belt, for one thing. It’s the only way you have to let the good guys know when to drop the net on the villains. No good escaping until you have the damn belt. Okay, fine. So find the belt. In the dark. Groping around on his hands and knees, or hopping on his manacled legs. Terrific.

Boch was making loud, angry noises behind him, but Daniel went grimly on, searching for the belt. Just when Boch got to his feet again, lunging toward him, another monumental form came out of the darkness with a roar, grappling around Boch, one huge mass toppling back to the ground. 

And then, and this is where it got too confusing for Daniel, two *more* silhouettes came running up out of the gloom, and joined the mêlée on the ground. Since none of them seemed to pose an immediate threat, Daniel focused on finding the belt, which he did. And once it was back around his waist – or a little lower, actually, since the buckle now sagged considerably below his navel – he turned to the group behind him.

The flare of a flashlight came out of nowhere, to reveal a very odd tableau. In a copse of pine trees and a thick impenetrable hedge of cedars that would block any light showing to the hangar environs, three men still wrestled on the ground. In the torch-light, Daniel could now recognize Boch, Teal’c, and… well, Jack. Holding the flashlight and a very big handgun, was a blonde woman in a rather smart military uniform. Daniel couldn’t help but wonder if a skirt, pantyhose and low-heeled pumps were the best attire for this operation, but she certainly looked frighteningly able.

“All right, that’s enough. Everyone freeze!” the woman ordered coldly. 

As the others obediently froze, having got a look at the size of the weapon in that small but capable hand, Jack extricated himself, blinked, and realized there was still one player missing. 

“Daniel?”

“Here, Jack,” he replied, hopping awkwardly forward. “Um… thanks for the rescue.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured the other man with a tight-lipped almost smile. “This is going to be a bit of a mess though… The actual exchange is set to happen at dawn, when Boch’s people arrive by car with the money, and BenRa’s people – or I suppose I should say Apo’s people – come by plane with the nuclear device. And if Boch isn’t there…”

Boch, groaning on the ground, still pinned beneath Teal’c, said, “Small problem with that, guys. I have no money, and no people. I’m working for Simmons, same as you.”

“Uh-hunh,” Jack said dryly, not believing a word.

“No, seriously. Call him and ask. He… persuaded me to assist him in buying the nuke from BenRa.”

“Persuaded?” Daniel surmised. “You mean blackmailed?”

“You’d know as much about that as I would, Dr. Jackson, now wouldn’t you? That’s how he got you into that fetching leather vest, isn’t it? And I’d just love to know what he has on you… that’s the truth, Colonel O’Neill.”

“Then what the hell were you doing dragging Daniel out here?”

“I was trying to save his life. So sue me for trying to be a good guy, okay?”

“So the taunting, telling him to bend over was, what?”

“Fringe benefit? An irresistible temptation? Come on guys! No harm was done. I figured I’d drop him out here well out of harm’s way, go back to the hangar and tell everyone he got a little frisky so I had to kill him. BenRa wouldn’t be happy, but he’d buy it. Apo would be mad enough to chew nails to miss his chance, but… As soon as the plane gets here, Apo’s going to try to kill BenRa, me *and* the good doctor here. I just thought one less target would be a good thing. It’s not like he’s going to be able to run for cover with those cuffs on. And there’s always the chance Apo won’t wait for his chance to get his own back on Dr. Jackson.”

Jack eyed the archeologist with some respect. “Apo really has it in for you, doesn’t he?”

“It’s more of a mutual admiration society. I’m very fond of him, too. Do you believe Boch’s story, Jack?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Call Simmons. Ask him,” Daniel suggested.

“I’m not sure I believe him either. And what about this guy?” Jack said, Daniel giving Teal’c a belated hand up.

Teal’c straightened himself with unnatural dignity and grace. “I was attempting to rescue Daniel Jackson myself. I observed Boch taking him away from the hangar and followed, intending to release Daniel Jackson, and kill Boch with my bare hands.” 

“Whoa, easy big guy,” Jack recommended. “Don’t you work for Apo?”

“No. I work for Israeli intelligence.”

“Aw for crying out loud! Not another plant!”

Teal’c continued. “They approached me some months ago and convinced me that I must no longer continue in the service of evil men who use religion to promote their own power-mad schemes of destruction and death. I too am attempting to prevent the nuclear device falling into the wrong hands. Or rather, ensure that it does not continue in the wrong hands.”

“That’s good to know, Teal’c,” Daniel said, clasping the man’s arm with a smile.

“I feared I would have to… ‘blow my cover’, however, when you became entangled in this operation. I could not in good conscience allow you to come to harm.”

“Well, no harm done, then. Jack, you know what you’re going to have to do, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Let all three of us go back to the hangar.”

“Christ, Daniel! No way! Okay, in Teal’c’s case, you vouch for him, I get that, he can go back, but not Boch, and sure as hell not you.”

“Without Boch, the deal won’t go through. BenRa will call the plane to turn back, and he’ll look for another buyer. Apo will pull his trap, kill BenRa, take the nuke, and you know were we’ll all be then. No. Boch has to go back. Teal’c has to go back or they’ll suspect someone is out here, they’ll call off the deal, and yadda. And I have to go back…”

“Oh, yes? You have to go back? Why can’t we go with Boch’s plan, he can tell them you put up a fight and he had to kill you… they’ll never miss you, Daniel.”

“Jack, just… hear me out.”

“Go ahead, Daniel. This ought to be good. Why do you have to go back?”

“Because you don’t trust Boch.”

“I’m crushed,” Boch muttered.

“Shut up,” said Jack and Daniel with one voice.

“Jack, you don’t trust Boch. Simmons probably doesn’t trust him either, which is why he double and triple hedged his bets with Skarra and again with me. But the deal will not go down unless Boch’s in that hangar at dawn. You need me in there because… because…”

“Yes? I’m waiting, Daniel.”

“Because I’ve got the belt wired for sound. I’m the one keeping everyone honest here.”

At this point, the blonde with the gun – still aimed at Boch’s abdomen or, unnervingly, perhaps a little lower – gave a cough and said, “Sir? Dr. Jackson may be right. There’s only half an hour before dawn. I think I can loosen the cuffs on his ankles, anyway, to give him a chance… But we have to send Teal’c and Boch back, and I think we need Dr. Jackson in there too.”

“Aw… for cryin’ out loud…” 

Å 

Boch had one more recommendation as he patted Daniel’s leather-cased rump fondly before opening the hangar door. “Just remember to look fucked, Dr. Jackson.”

Daniel groaned. “These things never happen when I wear tweed.”

“Then you’ve been impossibly lucky. You don’t even *own* a mirror, do you?”

Fortunately, that was all the time they had for snappy repartee, because they were back inside the hangar, where everyone stopped, and turned to stare. 

Daniel, unable to imagine how the hell he was supposed to ‘look fucked’ when it really meant ‘look raped’, settled for limp and unconscious. He had enough dirt and bruises on his face already to make him look pretty roughed up. Boch was grinning and whistling a happy little tune as he carried Daniel back to the heaped sleeping bags, and dumped the dangling archeologist off his shoulder onto one. Then the arms dealer sauntered over to the group around the tables for a little macho posturing and bragging that made Daniel’s teeth ache.

“Sorry if I left you sloppy seconds, BenRa, but this was my only opportunity, since I’ll be leaving as soon as we conclude our deal. He’s a sweet piece, I’ll give him that.” 

Daniel had rather hoped that they would all leave him alone and forget he was even there, but he heard footsteps approaching. He curled into a defensive ball by instinct, and managed an entirely realistic shudder when a hand gently touched his almost bare shoulder, then slowly caressed up his throat and into his hair just at the nape of his neck.

“I am sorry for that, Daniel. Truly.” It was BenRa. “Boch is a boor. I am certain he could not have been very gentle with you. Are you sore?” 

Daniel didn’t answer. But he did find himself shivering in revulsion. Curious.

“No, I do not believe you could have enjoyed the experience. I can only promise that I will be far more gentle, far more considerate. You will know joy at my hands, Daniel. That much, at least, I can give you.”

“I doubt that very much. I won’t enjoy being dead very much either,” Daniel grumbled into the sleeping bag, his face resolutely buried in the musty fabric. 

BenRa chuckled softly. “That is one of the things that has always drawn me to you, Daniel. Your spirit. Others may call it sheer mule stubbornness, or even being a pain in the ass, but… I see it for what it truly is. The measure of an indomitable spirit that will fight on no matter what the odds. I have always admired that quality about you, Daniel. I will mourn its loss more than you will ever know.” 

“True, as I will be dead…”

“Rest now, my friend. The plane will be here soon.”

Another voice broke in on this private moment. Apo. “The plane is here now.” The man’s voice was almost metallic with conflicting emotions. “But Boch’s people have yet to arrive. He is attempting to contact them by cell phone now.”

BenRa nodded and straightened up, pulling his own cell phone out. He pressed a number known only to himself, and spoke to the pilot. “Yes. You may now land. I will meet you at the end of the runway.”

The pilot, at least, was evidently still loyal to BenRa, and would only land if he saw his master in person waving him in. BenRa, with Apo, Boch and Teal’c close at his side, all left the hangar. The other men left too, deployed to points around the hangar and airstrip. Leaving Daniel alone.

He quickly undid the cuffs on ankles and wrists with the small and amazing tool Jack’s blonde friend had given him (what was her name anyway? In the darkness and urgency, they had totally missed the formality of an introduction). Then he stood up and went to a single gritty grimy window with broken panes of glass to watch the small plane land. Daniel remembered from movies (and didn’t that make the information suspect by definition?) that planes that flew low enough could escape detection by radar. Perhaps this little Cesna had eluded Simmons and all his technology. 

“Simmons?” he whispered at his belt buckle. “There’s a small yellow single-engined plane landing. There, it’s down. Coming to a stop just in front of BenRa… hell… kind of comical, like one of those little circus cars with twenty clowns inside… Well, in this case, it’s four men, but they’ve got a hell of a bulky case with them and it’s taking all four to carry it… I thought nuclear devices were smaller, somehow… Oh shit…” 

Å 

Carter hunched over her equipment… “That’s it, sir. Must be. Radioactive isotopes of plutonium. It’s in a lead lined container, thank god, but there’s enough leaking to be sure. That’s the nuke.”

“Simmons, you got that?” Jack barked out, already turning the ignition on the helicopter.

Then they could hear it, even behind the trees where they had landed the copter, well out of sight of the landing strip. The unmistakable spit of gunfire. A lot of it.

“Shit…” Jack spat out he reached for the ignition switch. “That kid better have got himself to cover…”

Å 

Even knowing it was coming, it took Daniel by surprise. 

Boch and Teal’c, forewarned by Daniel that the double-cross was coming, were able to dodge to cover as Apo’s men swept in and shot BenRa down. One of the men carrying the crate dropped his corner to reach for a gun, but was shot down too. The other three from the plane dropped their ends, hands in the air, crying out oaths of loyalty to Apo, so they wouldn’t end up face down in their own blood as well. 

Daniel sang a few bars, “Saturday night I was downtown, working for the FBI-I…” before he started looking frantically for cover. Because after Apo motioned for his men to follow the fleeing Teal’c and Boch, the homicidal maniac turned to the hangar with a gun in his hand, and a very large grin of anticipation on his face. 

Å 

Colonel O’Neill set some records getting that copter in the air and swinging over the hangar building. Over the radio he heard, “somebody started the shooting and everybody started to ru-un..”

So, not just a pain in the ass, but a smart ass as well…

By that time, the multi-team task force was swooping in from all directions, too, picking off BenRa and Apo’s men, then surrounding the big trunk. Teal’c and Boch arrived even as O’Neill set down, and he and Captain Carter vaulted down to join Simmons, Maybourne and the others. 

“That the nuke?” Jack asked, only to see Carter pull out her equipment and give a terse nod. “Go to it then, nail it down and make it secure. Harry, you got a head-count on the bad guys? Not counting Teal’c and Boch here, there were BenRa and Apo, four from the plane, and the seven they had waiting at the hangar.”

“BenRa is dead. So are three others,” Simmons preened.

Harry filled in, “We’ve got eight more in custody, three of them injured. That leaves…”

“One unaccounted for,” Jack said.

Teal’c said, “I do not see Apo. Or Daniel Jackson.”

“Aw crap. Teal’c, you’re with me.”

Å 

Daniel looked around somewhat desperately for a place to hide. There wasn’t one. Then he looked around for something to use as a weapon. Nothing obvious sprang from the shadows. But Apo was coming…

The terrorist leader grinned and almost hissed with anticipatory pleasure as his hand twisted the door knob and he entered the hangar. Then he reeled from the force of the blow of a wooden chair slamming down on his head. But he rallied and turned into the concerted attack of the younger man. The enthusiastic, motivated, but inexperienced man that was Daniel Jackson. 

It had happened so suddenly, that Apo’s handgun had been knocked from his grasp. Now he tried to get free of Jackson’s grip long enough to make a dive for it. But Daniel knew enough not to let him. They fell to the floor, rolled, kicked, fought desperately, neither man able to break free long enough to go for the weapon.

When Jack, Teal’c, Boch and Simmons’ men charged through the door, that was the scene they found, Apo sitting astride the writhing Jackson, each of them trying to throw punches that never landed for all the flailing around. Jack kicked Apo to the side, then knelt to assist Daniel. Teal’c made a grab for his ex-boss, but Apo slithered free, and finally managed to get his gun. By this time, Daniel and Jack were on their feet. Daniel turned, saw, had time to yell out, “No! Don’t shoot!” and throw himself in front of Jack… 

The report of the gun echoed in the enclosed space. Teal’c finally wrested the gun from Apo and gave him one bone-crushing right cross to the jaw that sent him to the floor in a collapsed heap. 

Å 

Sam had finished with the crate, sealed it and put it in the custody of Maybourne and his cohorts. She turned to see Teal’c emerge from the hangar with Apo in custody, then Jack and the others carrying the young archeologist. They got him to a waiting stretcher next to the med-evac helicopter that Maybourne had ordered up. 

Colonel O’Neill was already hollering for the medical team to get their asses in gear and get over to look at the wounded man. As Sam approached, she was relieved to find the young man conscious, if a trifle pale, saying, “You know what I could really use? A coffee and a couple of aspirin.” 

“Dr. Jackson I presume? I’m Captain Doctor Samantha Carter. Pleased to finally meet you.”

“Finally? Oh, pleased to meet you too, captain doctor. That wouldn’t be medical doctor, would it?” he asked hopefully, clutching at his thigh, thick red stain quickly spreading over his hands.

“No, sorry. Theoretical astrophysics.”

“Oh. And… You know me?”

“I know of your work with Egyptian translations. A… friend of mine has been wrestling with a particularly difficult set of hieroglyphics, and hasn’t been getting too far.”

“What references have they been using?”

“Wallis Budge, I believe.”

Daniel groaned, as if from more pain than his wound had caused, even as a medic leaned over him, pushing the overly solicitous USAF personnel out of the way. “Well no wonder he isn’t getting anywhere. Budge is a clueless bastard. Ow! That… stings… Honestly, I have no clue why they keep reprinting him. It isn’t as if his work is even *recent*, because it was old news fifty years ago!”

“Well it’s not like Ancient Egyptian is going anywhere fast,” Jack muttered. “It *is* a dead language, right?”

Daniel sighed, “I’d offer to give your friend a hand, but after Monday, my name is going to be mud in those circles, and after that I doubt if anyone would take my word for it if I said the sun would come up in the morning.”

Sam and Jack glanced at each other. Sam bit. “What happens Monday?”

“Oh… I’m going to get up in front of the entire academic community, tell them the past two hundred years of archeological study has been dead wrong in its conclusions as to dating and try to prove it before they all walk out in a huff.”

“Can you prove it?” Sam asked.

“To my satisfaction, yes. I can. To theirs? When I’m cutting the legs out from under everything they’ve ever believed to be true about ancient cultures? I doubt it. But then… they kind of expect this from me. The official fly in their ointment. It’s what I do best. Part of that ‘pain in the ass’ thing I was telling you about, Jack. And the fact that I’m going to go ahead anyway and deep-six fifteen years of school, 2 PhD’s and a masters degree, not to mention my entire academic career just because I think I’m right and they’re all wrong… well, QED, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Well, we have that in common,” Jack said. “The pain in the ass thing. Most people would say that’s my defining characteristic, too.”

Sam suppressed a grin at both men. Both, ah, extremely attractive men. Both extremely engrossed and staring at each other, men. Ouch, that was hot. Not just the leather then, Dr. Jackson. And pain in the ass, flake or not… Sam found herself believing the man. Or maybe it was more accurate to say, believing *in* him. “Actually, I think my… friend might still be interested. She’s running a research group at the NORAD base outside Colorado Springs, Cheyenne Mountain. Can I ask her to call you?”

“After Monday I imagine I’ll be entirely free. So, sure.”

“Wanna make that Wednesday, captain?” Jack snapped. “The kid’s going to be going straight from a hospital bed to the damned presentation as it is. Give him a few days to recuperate, okay?” 

Daniel blinked at that. If he didn’t know better… the Colonel’s whole attitude had more than a whiff of… ‘back off bitch and get your own archeologist’. 

Had to be the leather, he thought, shaking his head.

Å 

Jack reflected that almost everyone had got the happy ending they deserved. Simmons had taken off with his nuke and his troops. The FBI had a bunch of terrorists under lock and key. Boch had mysteriously faded right out of the picture before anyone noticed he wasn’t around to answer charges of his own. Harry was thanking Teal’c profusely, and offering American citizenship if he would continue to work undercover in terrorist organizations for the Pentagon. It looked like Teal’c, with a fractional nod of his head, might agree. Sam had been thanked for her work and cleared to return to Washington, so she was going to hitch a ride with Harry and Teal’c in Jack’s helicopter. 

And Jack? He was going to the nearest VA hospital in the med-evac with Daniel. Talk about your happy endings… black leather clad and all. 

“So,” he said after hoping on board the med-evac next to the strapped-in and temporarily patched archeologist, and resting a hand on a leather-covered hip. “Just you and me, kid.”

Daniel blinked, realized he still had the damn contacts in, and immediately popped them out to fling out of the craft before the doors were slammed shut. “Hate those things,” he muttered. He blinked again, then looked around, saw two more stretchers next to his, although the occupants were heavily sedated and unconscious for the trip. “Granted my vision isn’t the best, Jack, but it’s just you, me and two shot up… agents, I guess they would be. And two paramedics. And the pilot.”

Jack scowled fiercely. “I was going for a Bogie moment, Daniel.”

“Ah.”

“I was also going for a pass.”

Daniel blinked a few more times, mouth hanging open like a stunned haddock. 

Then, almost suspicious as he glanced down at a large, calloused, dangerous hand fondling his hip, or rather, the leather over it, “Why?”

“You just risked your life for me. Kinda grabbed my attention right there. Even if you didn’t have a dynamite ass… I did mention the dynamite ass thing, didn’t I?”

“Yes, um, you did. Several times. So… this isn’t just about leather.”

“Don’t think so. Let me see you in jeans, though, and we’ll be sure.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You mean… you’re okay with this? You, me, two guys, me getting you out of that leather at the earliest opportunity to check out the rest of you?”

“I guess I’m okay with it, yes. I have had... um… relations, with men. Well, one man… he… uh… never mind. Yes, I think I’m okay. I’m between… attachments right now. What about you? Don’t they frown on this sort of thing in the armed forces?”

“Oh, well, I’ve been thinking of retiring. So what are your plans after this meeting tomorrow?”

“I don’t really have any, unless this offer from Doctor Captain Carter pans out… What’s Colorado Springs like?”

“Okay, I guess. Just another town. Good fishing, has a hockey team that doesn’t suck, gets some hard winters, but a good place to bring up kids... I’ve got a kid, from my previous marriage. I’m divorced.”

“Ah. So this is… what, a mid-life crisis? An experiment? The mystique of leather?”

“No, Daniel. This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 

Å 

“Catherine? It’s me, Sam. I’ve just finished up that little favor for the NID, and I’m back in Washington now. I should be at the Mountain tomorrow afternoon, latest. Look… You remember our discussions about Dr. Daniel Jackson?”

“Of course. Why?”

“I’ve just met him. You were right. He is a little odd, and a bit of a flake... to tell the truth, I think he’s a bit of a pain in the ass as well…” Sam said, smiling reminiscently as she remembered a whole lot of very smooth and scrumptious black leather… and what the late BenRa had said that ‘pain in the ass’ quality truly was… Sam thought she might agree with him. “Cute as a bug, though. And… I think it might be worthwhile getting him out to the Mountain after all. Pain in the ass, flake or not, he’s got NID clearance and I have it on good authority that he’s going to be looking for a job come Monday…”

Å


End file.
